Chapter 4 - The Morning After
|
By 7:00 AM, the shock had completely worn off, replaced by a cold, calculating clarity.
Sophia Bennett was not a woman who allowed the world to break her. At thirty-two, she ran one of the most successful high-end art restoration and logistics firms in New York City. She dealt with eccentric billionaires, demanding museum curators, and, occasionally, dangerous private collectors. She knew how to compartmentalize chaos.
She took a scalding hot shower, washing away the lingering scent of Adrian’s cologne from her skin. She dressed in a sharp, tailored charcoal suit, pulled her dark hair into a severe, perfect knot at the base of her neck, and applied her makeup with military precision.
When she walked out of her brownstone to head to her office in Chelsea, she immediately noticed the black SUV idling across the street.
Two men in dark suits sat in the front seats. They weren't trying to hide. They were Adrian’s men.
Sophia didn't break her stride. She walked down the block, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement, and descended into the subway station. She knew they wouldn't follow her onto the train; Adrian’s men preferred the safety of their armored vehicles.
She arrived at her office an hour later. The large, airy loft was filled with the smell of turpentine, old paper, and expensive coffee.
“Good morning, Sophia,” her assistant, Mark, called out from his desk. “You have a meeting with the Guggenheim curators at eleven, and the shipping manifests for the Venetian collection need your signature.”
“Cancel the eleven o'clock, Mark,” Sophia said, walking briskly toward her glass-walled office. “And hold all my calls. Especially if someone named Adrian or anyone from Moretti Holdings tries to reach me.”
Mark’s fingers paused on his keyboard. He looked up, sensing the heavy, dangerous tension radiating from his boss. “Is everything okay, Sophia?”
“Everything is perfectly fine,” Sophia lied smoothly, closing her office door behind her.
She sat at her massive mahogany desk, booted up her secure laptop, and pulled up the financial files for her company. Over the last four years, Adrian had occasionally asked her to handle the logistics and shipping for several high-value "art acquisitions." He had claimed it was entirely legitimate, a way to clean up his family’s image. Sophia, blinded by love, had facilitated the movements, ensuring the paperwork was flawless.
Now, viewing those transactions through the lens of his betrayal, a sickening realization washed over her.
She wasn't just his girlfriend. She was a deeply integrated, highly useful asset.
Sophia began opening the encrypted manifests, cross-referencing the delivery dates of the art shipments with Adrian’s travel schedules. If Adrian had lied about Valentina, he had likely lied about the contents of those crates. She needed to know exactly how much exposure her company had to the Moretti crime family.
As she was digging through a particularly complex ledger from two years ago, the heavy glass door of her office swung open without a knock.
May you like
Sophia looked up.
Adrian was standing in the doorway, flanked by Marcus, his imposing, heavily scarred head of security.
